The Truth That Divides
by Kanon Anderson
Summary: The only admission that he’d made was that he’d prayed every night. Not for death, but for his return to the life he knew. He’d thought his return might change their relationship and in some ways, it had. He didn’t know if it was for the better or worse.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Sorry...forgot to mention this is the sequel for "The Myth of Winter". There will be more to come, so stay tuned. As always, don't own the characters.

Voices filtered in out of his dream, originating from faces he could not see. Darkness surrounded him, a blackness so thick it choked him. The only light entering the cell came from the flashes of lightning that filtered in through the three missing bricks that served as a window. His heart thrummed quickly in his chest. He was back in a place he dreaded most. The cell in some god forsaken country, with no hope of escape. His mouth opened, ready to let loose a scream, but no sound came. Tears filled his eyes as he reached out to pound a fist against the wall, gasping in pain from the stone hitting his weakened fists.

He woke with gasp, damp streams falling down his cheeks. Lightning flickered outside, followed by the deep rumble of thunder. The storm had been brewing all day, the heat of the summer made worse by the thick humidity that hung in the air. He fell back against the sheets, hand fumbling for the alarm clock beside his bed. 3:00am. Twenty more minutes of sleep than he had received the night before. With a sigh, he pushed himself off his bed and went into the living room, flicking the lights on.

It'd been two months since he'd been rescued from the hellhole of a prison he'd been kept in. One month since his return to Washington D.C. One week since he'd been cleared for duty with the FBI. Two weeks of counseling with Sweets and Gordon Gordon and the nightmares still remained. He knew two months of sleepless nights had already started to show. Dark circles under his eyes, gaunt cheeks and an unnatural pale tone had dulled out the healthy tan he'd once had. As if the face he saw in the mirror every day wasn't enough of a reminder, the sorrow and worried faces he saw everyday just confirmed it. They walked in eggshells around him. Afraid to mention, to timid to ask. The only person to barrage ahead through the invisible barriers everyone was afraid to cross was Bones.

He'd thought his return might change their relationship and in some ways, in had. He didn't know if it was for the better or worst. It was just different from before. She opened up more and listened to him more, but the touches had become less. As if she was afraid that if she touched him, he really wouldn't be there. They'd both been traumatized by the experience. She, terrified he was gone for good. He, still troubled by the torture he'd endured. As a Ranger, he'd learned that there were things worse than death. Pain, torture, torment…anything that could warp the mind into believing anything the captors wanted the captured to believe. In a way, his capture felt like karma. Retribution for all of the people he had killed, helped to be captured. In the prison, he had prayed every day he would be found. Never once was a prayer for death muttered. Faith had taught him to trust in God. Love had taught him to never give up.

He poured coffee into a filter and started his coffee machine, sitting on the couch and eyeing the paperwork he'd brought home with him. There'd been no cases in the past week, so he'd had little reason to see Bones. Paperwork, unfortunately, was a constant and had built up in his absence. He idly picked up a pen and began to fill out the requisite areas, only pausing to get a cup of coffee when the pot had stopped brewing.

Forty-five minutes later, he heard a knock on his door. He looked through the peephole and saw his partner on the other side. Without a moment's pause, he opened the door.

He saw her hesitation for a moment. The lip she chewed on, the slump of her shoulders; on her, the look seemed so out of place that it stood out all the more. "I saw your light on," she said, by way of explanation. "I was going to the lab and I thought, if you were up, maybe…maybe we could have breakfast."

He studied her for a moment, seeing for the first time in weeks, darkness under her eyes and the pale tone of her skin. He wasn't the only one who hadn't been sleeping. "Sure," he said, moving out of the doorway so she could enter, "Just let me get changed." She nodded, wrapping her arms around her as her eyes roamed around his apartment. Familiar pictures of Parker, friends and family were scattered around. Dishes piled in the sink. Drawings on the fridge. All were signs of the life he's living. She didn't know why she was still haunted by the fact that she would wake up one day, only to find him gone again.

She'd hoped their relationship would change. He would come back, all of their feelings would be in the open and they'd begin a relationship. A real one. Not one defined by lines or their partnership. But, as always, she drew away. They'd spent the first few nights after his return together. Never moving past touching and holding. She'd encouraged him through his counseling sessions, visited him after she got done at the lab each day. Then, something change. A shift occurred. He seemed withdrawn, quiet and timid. She'd tried asking, even going so far as threatening to not leave until he talked. That night only ended with a door clicking shut as he withdrew to his room.

She didn't know what had happened to him, of the tortures he'd endured. She only knew what he x-rays and scans showed. Broken bones, bruising and scars. He never spoke of his time in the prison. The only admission that he'd made was that he'd prayed every night. Not for death, but for his return to the life he knew.

Movement from the bedroom caught her attention and he walked in, wearing a shirt and jeans. The shirt once clung to his muscles. Now, it billowed slightly on his figure. The jeans that once hugged his curves now hung to his hips by a belt. "I'll drive," he said, grabbing his keys. She didn't protest. Only followed him out the door towards his car.

The ride to the diner was silent. The only sound came from the windshield wipers dragging across the windshield. He parked and climbed out, following her in. The diner was fairly empty. Only a couple sat in at a corner table, giggling and laughing, still intoxicated from their night's activities. Without asking, the waitress brought them both coffee, creams and sugars. Without glancing at the menus, both placed their orders. Silence fell between them once more.

"How's Parker doing?" She was the first to speak, choosing a subject that was safe for both of them.

"Fine," he replied, "Made an A on his science test."

"Did the cell kit help?" He smiled and nodded, sipping his coffee. She'd purchased the cell kit for his son, upon learning he was struggling with a cell's anatomy. Like herself, Parker learned best by touching.

"The gel stuff got everywhere," he said, "He wanted you to be there to help."

"You should have called," she said, "I was just working on a few cases in Limbo." Six months ago, that phrase would have never come out of her mouth. She would have never given up identifying bones to help his son on a science project. At least, not voluntarily. It was one more testament to how things had changed between them.

"I didn't want to interrupt," he said, "You gave up a lot of your life to be with him when I was gone." Silence fell between them and the topic, which had once been safe, now drifted into treacherous territory. His absence, his disappearance. Subjects that remained strictly taboo, for some unknown reason.

"I liked spending time with him. It helped…when you were gone." She'd grown tired of taboo subjects. Dancing around his being gone, as if it'd never happened.

"I'm glad." He clammed up once more, reaching for his cup of coffee and taking a sip. Their food arrived and he couldn't think of a time he had been more grateful for the interruption. "So, when's this conference that you're going to?" Just like that, the conversation went from the taboo to the safe. He knew anything to do with her work would steer from uncomfortable territory.

"In two weeks," she said, "I'll only be gone for a week. Mister Fisher is the intern scheduled for duty that week, should you need anything." He snorted and rolled his eyes at the thought of the depressive intern assisting him with a case.

"That'll be an uplifting week," he said, giving her a smile, to show that he was joking. "Where's the conference at again?"

She smiled and began to talk about the conference. The location, the sessions she was presenting on and the ones she would attend. She knew he was avoiding the topic they most needed to talk about it. The one that involved him being gone and the shift in their relationship. However, the diner at five in the morning hardly seemed the time and place for that conversation, so she rambled on about the conference and herself. One of the few things that made him smile these days.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Nope, sorry...haven't forgotten. Just been insanely busy. Will try to be quicker to update. Let me know your thoughts.

Two steps forward, one step back. That had become the anathema of their relationship. For every moment, every touch, every hug, every secret they'd ever kept and shared between them. Two steps forward, one step back. Slowly moving forward, but always with caution.

He sighed and looked out the window as lightening cracked against the dark sky. It was only ten in the morning, but it looked like night outside. After breakfast at the diner, he dropped her off at her apartment, then went to his own to change for work. Their conversation had been awkward. Neither wanting to acknowledge that which they felt.

He prayed for a case, a body to be found, an agent needing forensic help…anything that would give him the opportunity to stop by the lab and see her. But, his phone remained silent.

He thought back to when he came back. The promises he had made and the one he'd failed to keep. He saw more of Parker. Hugged him tighter, watched him closer. His son had been distrusting of him at first. He'd been raised to never lie and struggled to understand why he'd been lied to. Why the lie had been told to keep his father alive. After a couple of weeks and visits where both himself and Bones were present, Parker acted as if nothing had happened. Except for when Booth noticed his son glancing over his shoulder more, making sure he was still there. It'd hurt him to see the distrust in his son's eyes at first, but the pain eased when he knew it'd been done to protect both of their lives. While in prison, when the pain hurt the most, the cuts bled more and the hopelessness grew, he would think of Parker…and of her. Even in the grimmest of nights, the darkest of days he spent in the hell hole, his hope never died.

He would think about how she smelled first thing in the morning. How her half smile at first understanding would grow to a full smile when she fully understood. He thought of how she'd changed, who'd she had become. How wrong he'd been when they first met. The test of the tequila on her breath. The pain that was inflicted on him did nothing to dull the memories of her. Only reinforced them all the more.

A suddenly rattling on his desk caught his attention. Flicking his phone open, he saw her name and the icon showing he had a text message. "Lunch?" He smiled and looked out the window, where the rain lashed out and trees bowed against the wind.

"Be there in five." He grabbed his jacket and slung it over his shoulder, the day suddenly brightening.

They wound up at Founding Fathers again. At the table they usually sat at, in their usual seats. He listened while she spoke about the identifications she had made, the preparations she still needed to make before she left for a week. She noticed he was listening, but not in the way he usually did. A soft smile graced his lips and he nodded with what she said. It was when he didn't reply that she got worried. "Booth? Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," he said, leaning back and reaching for a French fry. "Do you need a ride to the airport?"

"No, that's okay," she said, stealing another fry. "I can just drive and park there."

"Don't waste your money. I'll just take you. When do you leave?"

"My flight's at 7 am," she said, "Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Of course not," he said, "Just send me your itinerary."

"Thanks," she said, giving him a soft smile. He returned the smile and silence fell between them. It was awkward and comfortably at the same time. A paradox, much like the rest of their relationship. Finally, he got up to pay and lead her out of the diner, a gentle hand on her back.

The night air was warm and humid- the kind that warned of an impending storm. He drove over to her house, a case file and Thai food on the seat next to him. He parked his car in the visitor's spaces outside of her apartment and walked up, knocking on the door. She answered, her hair pulled back and makeup wiped clean of her face. He loved she didn't hold herself back, always feel she had look perfect for him.

"Did you bring the file with you?" He held it up with a grin. She rolled her eyes before taking the bag of food from him and began to dish it out onto plates while he grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge. They had already wrapped up the case in question and just needed to finish the required paperwork. It had been open and shut; a man murdered his wife for cheating on him.

They quickly ate dinner, she stealing most of the meek rob, him stealing pad thai from her plate. When they had finished, she took the dishes to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine and grabbed another beer from her fridge. She joined him on the couch, the file spread out on the coffee table. Time slipped away as they read, only speaking to review a piece of information or ask a question.

It wasn't until the sound of thunder rolled in the distance that she looked up and saw it was nearly midnight. "Guess we better call it a night," Booth said, pushing himself up and gathering the empty beer bottles to put in the trash.

"I didn't even realize it had gotten so late," she said, the delicious feeling of the wine flooding her veins. She stretched her arms behind her back, her chest thrust forward and her shirt rising just an inch. The breath caught in his throat and he swallowed hard, closing his eyes, only to have the image burned in his mind.

He gathered the file and tucked everything away before heading for the door. "Don't forget to send me your itinerary," he said, opening the door and watching as she ambled over to him. She moved sluggishly, her features relaxed from the lateness of the hour and the wine consumed.

"I won't," she said, giving him a smile. "Thank you again, for offering to take me."

"No problem." He smiled back, his breath catching again as she shifted and strands of hair fell in her eyes. Without thinking, he reached out and brushed them away, a finger running across her cheek. He felt her gasp and met her wide blue eyes, filled with questions and confusions. He gave her one last smile, filled with what he hoped was reassurances, rather than the panic that filled his heart. Without looking back, he shut the door behind him and instinctually listened for the click of the lock. Pressing the button for the elevator, he waited. Two steps forward, one step back. The anathema of their relationship. For every action that brought them closer together, there was always one defining moment that reminded them of what could be, and the terror of what could happen if everything that went so well suddenly went so wrong.


End file.
